White Blood (39 page)

Tennelan edged closer. “Tior, let him go. That’s an order!”

“No, sir,” Tior gasped between jerks as Vinhor yanked him from side to side. “You saw the crown over Barilan’s head. He was trying to kill the king.”

Tennelan hesitated. Carlich scowled. “Ignore him. Get Vinhor free! Then we’ll settle the matter for good.”

When Tennelan still didn’t respond, Carlich’s lips twisted into a snarl. He looked down at the sparks raining from his hands. They were subsiding once again. He pulled back one hand and went for his knife. The other kept the magic swirling around Maryn and the others.

Maryn took a step toward Carlich, but the magic shoved her back. “No!” She couldn’t let him hurt Tior. And she couldn’t let Vinhor get free to renew his attack against Barilan. But she was helpless, her body imprisoned by Carlich’s sorcery, her blood locked away where she couldn’t reach it. She turned an imploring gaze on the others, but they were as trapped as she. Rogelan and Kiellan were speaking together in urgent low voices. Voerell stared at Carlich with loathing, her fists clenched before her.

“Tennelan, listen to me!” Maryn cried. “He’s been lying to you all along!” The captain glanced at her, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. His brow furrowed, and she caught her breath in hope. “Leave Tior alone! Stop Carlich!”

“Don’t listen to her, Tennelan!” Carlich waved his knife in a threatening gesture. “Free Vinhor!”

Voerell pushed as far forward as the restraining magic would let her. “Captain Tennelan, I order you to apprehend my brother. Your treachery in following him can be forgiven if you act now!”

Tennelan shook his head and backed away, face torn with indecision. Carlich snarled, taking a step after him, but the fountain of sparks from his hand sank lower every moment. “Fine! I’ll do it myself!” He whirled back to his captives, driving his knife into his arm. “Filthy serf girl! I should have let those specters drink your blood. You’ll pay for defying me. I’ll—” His voice choked to silence as King Froethych’s spell prevented him from voicing the threat.

Maryn shrank away from the hatred in his eyes. Despite everything, Carlich was going to triumph, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She clawed at her arms until her fingernails bent and broke without effect. She sank her teeth into her tongue, but it remained unharmed.

Blood poured from Carlich’s arm, and he dropped his knife to catch it. For a moment the magic swirling around Maryn flickered and Carlich’s face went pale.

Had he misjudged, and spilled too much blood? Maryn shoved against the imprisoning wall. The others did the same. She was sure she felt it yielding.

Carlich swayed, but caught himself. Panting, he bent over. Blood spattered from his hand as he braced it against his thigh. His upraised hand shook, blood flowing from the new cut, but blue fire continued to pour from it. He sucked in deep shuddering breaths. With every gasp more color returned to his cheeks. The barrier firmed under Maryn’s thrusting hand and forced her back. Carlich slowly straightened.

Maryn closed her eyes in despair. She clutched Barilan so hard he struggled in her grip and wailed. Her body responded to his cry, sending a hot tingling rush through her breasts. It wasn’t fair. She’d failed Barilan after all. She would gladly give all her blood to save him, but it wasn’t enough. Did she have time to put him to her breast, so at least he would have the comfort of her milk in the last moments before Vinhor tore his soul from his body?

Milk…

Barilan’s body pressed against a small hard lump between her breasts.

White blood…

Maryn whirled and thrust Barilan into Voerell’s arms. The princess gaped at her, almost dropping him, but tightened her arms around him as he shrieked in protest and grabbed for Maryn. “Please,” Maryn gasped, “distract Carlich. Just for a moment. I have an idea.”

Voerell’s face registered only blank confusion, but Kiellan understood. The prelate leaned against the sorcerous barrier. “Prince Carlich,” he called. “Listen to me. You don’t want to do this. It’s not too late. The Holy One can forgive any sin, if only you’re willing to repent.”

Carlich paused, his hand poised to gather new blood from his wound. He sneered at Kiellan. “You’re quick to speak of forgiveness when I have you at my mercy. Don’t think I’ll fall for your tricks. You’re trying to weaken my resolve by making me feel guilty. It won’t work. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Maryn edged to the back of the closely packed group so the others’ bodies shielded her from Carlich’s view. She snatched the little perfume bottle from its hiding place in her bodice.

Kiellan’s voice was gentle. “Is that truly what you believe, my prince? Or have you allowed your own desires to drown out the Holy One’s voice in your heart? Do you think he condones betrayal and murder?”

Maryn worked the stopper free from the bottle’s mouth and poured the milk into her hand. It dripped between her fingers and splashed on the ground. Dropping the bottle, she rubbed her palms together, frantically thinking. King Froethych’s spell wouldn’t let her harm Carlich. What could she do that wouldn’t hurt him, but would stop him from killing Tior and freeing Vinhor?

Carlich’s hand jerked. A tendril of fire slashed Kiellan’s face. “Be silent! I know the Holy One is with me!”

Kiellan staggered. Rogelan supported him. The sorcerer glared at Carlich. “You know he speaks the truth. Let us go, and give up this nonsense.”

Voerell clutched the writhing, sobbing Barilan. “The Holy One will feed your soul piece by piece to the Vulture for your sins!”

Carlich snarled at her. He swept his hand up the bloody wound on his arm and rubbed his palms together. Fresh sparks blazed skyward. “It’s your own sins you should worry about, Voerell!”

Maryn stared at the blood;-;fueled fire blazing in Carlich’s hands. Of course. She knew one spell she could use. She’d seen him shape the necessary gestures dozens of times.

Curling her fingers into the proper position, she raised her hands and scooped the magic up. The milk burst into blue lightning in her palms.

Kiellan held up a hand. Carlich’s attack had left a charred track across his cheeks; he spoke through blistered lips. “Prince, stop. Let this conflict be settled by honorable combat, not the slaughter of innocents. Keep me as a hostage if you must. But let the women and children go, at least. Your sister, and Barilan, and his nurse—”

Maryn’s hands flew through the spell. Magic crackled around her, buzzing in her spine and skull. She didn’t remember every nuance of the motions, but her will was strong and her purpose blazed in her heart.

Carlich laughed, high and wild. “And lose my chance at the Kingship? Never! It will be mine, and nothing you can say will stop me!”

He whirled. A spear of fire blazed from his hand, piercing the guard who held Vinhor’s legs. He slumped, and Vinhor kicked him away. Carlich turned on Tior.

Maryn elbowed between Voerell and Rogelan, her hands never pausing in their motions, sparks shooting out in all directions. She shouted, “Carlich!”

He spun to face her. Shock widened his eyes and stilled his hands for an instant. He recovered and twisted his hands into a motion that would send his magic to block hers, but it was too late. A wave of sparks poured from her hands and engulfed him.

The magic swelled huge and untamable, wrenching away from Maryn’s control and taking over her arms, driving them to ever more frantic motion, but she didn’t care. She focused all the strength she had on her desire. Carlich stared at her, fear in his eyes, and took a step backwards.

She crowed in triumph, over the roar of the magic. “Stop!” she cried. “Don’t hurt Tior! Let us go!”

Carlich’s arms shook as he fought to resist her order and keep them raised. He was strong, much stronger than she’d ever been. Maryn threw herself with renewed effort into the magic. It carried her along, sucking at her with the same ferocious power that had torn King Froethych’s life from his veins and had nearly killed her once before. She surrendered to its force. Let it burn all her blood into blue fire, if that’s what it took to force Carlich to obey her.

Carlich’s eyes went blank and empty, just as hers must have all those times. The fire of his sorcery died. His hands fell to his sides, unconsumed blood dripping from his fingertips. The wall of flame that confined Maryn and the others flickered and vanished.

Kiellan and Rogelan rushed to Carlich and grabbed his arms. Voerell backed away from Maryn, clutching the wailing Barilan to her chest. “What’s happening?” she cried. “What are you doing?

The magic had Maryn in its claws, drawing her life into its sucking vortex. She couldn’t stop it. Any moment now her skin would split open and the spell would drain the blood from her body. She’d never have the chance to tell Voerell everything that had happened, all the secrets she longed to make known.

Behind Carlich, Tennelan backed toward the shimmering wards. “Men!” he shouted. “Forward! Herald, sound the advance!” Maryn heard the blare of a trumpet, and caught a blurry glimpse of masses of men surging forward, past the hill, toward the city.

No! She had to do something, fast, before the spell overcame her and she could no longer command Carlich. What could she make him do that would end his threat forever?

Carlich stared at her with dull eyes, ready to obey. Maryn’s arms thrashed. Her skin throbbed in time with the pulse hammering in her ears. The earth tilted under her feet. Blackness crowed the edges of her vision.

Maryn wrenched every scrap of will she possessed into one final effort. “Tell them the truth!” she cried. “All of it! Tell them how you murdered your brother, and kidnapped me and Barilan, and tried to make me destroy his soul!”

Lightning burst in a fountain from her chest. It felt like her heart exploding from her body. Hot liquid poured from her, fueling the flames of her sorcery into a blazing inferno.

Dimly over the roar in her teeth and bones and skull, she heard Carlich’s voice, dull and emotionless. “I killed Marolan. I gave Dolia the rose hoping she’d prick herself. When she did, I captured a few drops of her blood on my handkerchief. I’d prepared it with a little of my own so I could make a show of cleansing it…”

Maryn sagged to her knees, unable to hear any more, but it didn’t matter. She’d done it. No one would ever acclaim Carlich king now. Voerell would have all the evidence she needed to arrest and imprison him. Tennelan would hear and call off the army. Milecha would be safe from Carlich’s malice.

Soft grass pillowed her head. A sharp rock pressed into her cheek, but her skin was still impervious to harm. Night swam up to claim her, quiet and peaceful.

Regret stabbed though the calm. Barilan would cry for her. She wished she could be there to comfort him.

But Edrich and Frilan would be waiting for her in the courts of the Holy One. She took the joy of that thought with her into the darkness.

Twenty-one

A
n arm slid under Maryn’s shoulders and lifted them. A hard surface pressed into her lips. “Here, drink a little. It will help you recover your strength.”

Warm, salty broth sloshed into Maryn’s mouth. She spluttered and coughed, spraying the liquid all over whoever had been holding the cup. She heard an exclamation of surprise, and the arm dropped her abruptly. Maryn fell back, tensing for impact, but the surface she struck was soft and yielding. A bed, she realized.

Blankets covered her, pinning her arms. She pulled her hands free and rubbed at dry, sandy eyes, blinking until tears cleared away the blur of sleep. Overhead, a canopy stretched, woven with a familiar pattern of twining vines and flowers. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she’d seen it before, but then she placed it. She was back in the royal nursery, in the bed she had shared with Barilan.

“She’s waking up.” Maryn turned her head and saw Litholl, Voerell’s midwife, sitting beside the bed. She was twisted toward the open door, speaking to someone in the next room. “Send for the princess.”

Maryn struggled to sit up. “What’s going on? Where’s Barilan? Is Carlich—What happened?” She faltered, swallowing. “I thought I was dead.”

Litholl smoothed tendrils of hair back from Maryn’s face. “No, dear. You’re fine.”

Maryn tried to sort out her confused memories of the moments before everything had gone black. “The spell got out of control. I was sure it would suck all the blood from my body—”

“Ah.” Litholl took Maryn’s hands in hers. “But you didn’t use blood to work your magic. You used your milk. Your spell did run out of control, and used up all your strength until you fell unconscious, and sucked all the milk from your breasts. But of course that didn’t kill you.” She smiled. “Rogelan and Kiellan keep arguing whether a spell worked with milk couldn’t draw on blood for power, or whether Carlich’s spell still prevented your skin from breaking open and letting your blood out. But in any case, none of your blood went into the spell, so you’ll be fine. You’ve only been unconscious a few hours. Princess Voerell had you brought here to recover and summoned me to tend you.”

Maryn blinked. She raised her hands to her breasts. “All my milk…Does that mean I can’t nurse Barilan any more? Where is he?”

The midwife patted Maryn’s shoulder. “He’s in the next room, with Semprell. She’s quite annoyed, you know, that he missed two whole weeks of exercises and language lessons. As to your milk…We can’t know for certain until you try, but I strongly suspect there won’t be a problem. As I always tell new mothers, your breasts are never truly empty. They’re always making more. Your spell took all there was at the moment, but they’ve been busy ever since to replace it. If anything, your supply will be increased because of the great demand. That could be convenient, if you have any plans to study magic and become a great sorceress.”

Maryn shuddered at the thought, crossing her arms over her breasts. “Oh, no. I’ve had more than enough of magic to last me for a lifetime.”

“Are you sure? Rogelan is wild to speak with you and find out exactly how you did it. He’s never heard of anyone using milk to fuel a spell before.” Litholl snorted. “Of course, most sorcerers are men. Midwives have always known milk had power, but the sorcerers considered it a trivial thing. Of concern only to women and children, not worthy of study.” She shook her head. “Never mind. Right now you need to rest and recover from your efforts.”